


Somnambulists

by Raynidreams



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Mildly Dubious Consent, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raynidreams/pseuds/Raynidreams
Summary: By the numbers, overly poetic, dream(ish)-sex.Warnings: Unprotected sex. Pregnancy is only implied.TLJ spoilers.





	Somnambulists

**Author's Note:**

> Segue, I loved the pairing in SW:TFA but have seriously fallen down the rabbit hole after SW:TLJ. Been obsessed since I saw it a week ago. Does anyone have links for all their dialogue?

A dream.

She turns on her side towards his presence as her mind gives shape to their bodies. They come to rest parallel to each other, positioned close. Asleep she's free to act without conflict and to receive him in a way her conscious self wouldn't permit - without reproach. She touches his face with a curious finger and then covers his jagged scar with her palm. At her touch he rouses and his dark eyes open. He blinks but doesn’t say anything. His gaze is inquisitive. She takes a shaky breath and fixes them to stay like that, easy for a time, maintaining silence as gravity builds.

Something light begins to sing effervescently through her blood.

Something keenly dark ignites between her thighs.

 _Don't be afraid. I feel it too_ – it’s his voice.

She's not scared. She's captivated. It’s a dream.

She moves her palm down his face and throat to his naked shoulder. Down further, over his chest. She tracks her hand with her eyes to where his reaches to meet hers. He takes a shuddering inhalation as their fingers intertwine.

_It's just us now._

Holding her, he rolls on his back and she’s drawn with him, up and over his body. Skin to skin, she shivers with sensation. She’s not the only one. His flexed knee trembles when her hip brushes it. His legs twitch as she settles above his groin.

_It's not too late._

She searches his face for any cruelty. In its absence, hands still linked, she descends to kiss him as he rises to kiss her. The moment elongates, perched, until they touch. His lips are soft. She presses harder and his mouth opens on a deep breath and their tongues meet. He raises his free hand to her hair as the kiss deepens. They part and meet again repeatedly. She loses herself to it. All thoughts about who they are, their origins and future, are lost in the sensations of his hand on her scalp, to her chest, belly, and thighs flush to his.

It’s he that pulls from her first. He slants his head, gaze skimming over her, eyebrows knitted. Whatever this dream version of him was thinking was impossible to visibly read, but as in the nature of dreams, she feels his admiration in her spirit: his desire as palpable and as absolute as her own. She feels forces in and beyond her power pass between them, churning with all the raw potency of an electrical storm, zipping between them in the places they connect. She smiles.

He swallows then, the apple of his throat bobbing. Drifting from his gaze, she shifts to kiss it and the hollows and juts of his neck and collar, swirling her tongue into the recesses. Awake, she'd be stunned at her familiarity, surprised as she knew the real him would be. This version shudders at her caresses, matching her inexperience and yet innate skill to please.

She delves down, and balances on her knees between his thighs. She feels his large hands trace the anatomy of her spine and the geography of her waist as she maps his torso with her lips. She takes care to kiss the keloidal mounds of scar tissue, gently respecting the places where she'd cut him, before going on to delight in the feel of his flat stomach and lower. His hands come back to her head on a groan. His fingers soothe her there, brow first, and then gently the lines of her earlobes and nape. They touch the tiny blemish on her one cheek as he arches to kiss her crown.

As their exploration extends, chronology begins to slip. Things blur. She's over him, pulled to sit in his lap, his lips against the tender skin of her breastbone, and next, her location has shifted and she finds that he crouches before her, head bowed, her one ankle cradled in his palms. He presses into her instep, shaping circles to the tension there. It causes energy to rocket from his ministrations throughout her entire body, both alleviating and stimulating all at the same time. His fingers trail off, up the leg, following the line of her calf, under the delicate skin of her knee, past the artery, and around her thigh. His fingertips brush over her one hipbone where blue veins show blood near the surface. Her stomach retracts and she pants. He snaps her brief smirk, one that sits strange on his habitually solemn face, before he retraces the caress with his tongue.

Her insides leap from smouldering to ablaze.

She chases that friction. Her feet push down to lift her closer to him. His arms link around the bow of her back and he sucks hard. She whimpers as he bruises. He salves the marks with a kiss and she moans. Her nerves are jumping like stones across a pond when he moves on relentlessly to tongue her navel. Again, time spins, and she loses the span of actions between him kneeling to when his body is on top of hers. He’s abruptly just there, right where she wants him, held aloft on knees and elbows, kissing her face and then her chest. His wet mouth finds her one nipple and then her other. He pulls them into the whirlpool of his mouth where he soaks the hard rings. It’s almost too much, the tips hypersensitive and aching. She claws down his spine with her nails, skipping over vertebrae, desperate to both pull him back and bring him closer.

All this time, pressure inside her has been building. Her whole system steams with uncontrollable fire. She wills him closer and he yields, the full impact of his weight feels good on top of her. It grounds her in a cocoon.

They pulse to meet one another, pushing in movements softer than cartilage with an impact denser than bone. Momentum carries her on. Finally she grasps him and pulls him to her. She’s hot, craving him to fill the void. His body throbs pleasingly in agreement under her hand, the veins of his cock raised and thick. _It seems so real_ …The wiry hair around the shaft; the smell of sweat and sex, all so solid and beyond her imagination. _No_ : she rejects the thoughts. For so long she’s been lonely. She’s not lonely here. His tip is moist, pearling white, this is what she wants. Above her, hair wild, he catches her eye… _Rey?_

 _No names._ Whatever he is asking, she clears from her mind. She tilts, driving him inside. There's brief pain and stretching, the stab of which offers another unwelcome splash of verisimilitude. She slams the concern aside. She's so taught—the thickness inside her stomach heavy—she  extends back and then drives up again.

His agitated breaths stir her equally ravaged hair. He's shaking. She senses him pull away but she draws him back to her.

_It's okay, it’s only a dream._

His groan echoes all around her. He assents, and then pulls back and plunges forward. At each crack of his hips, she's pushed closer and closer to the edge. Phantom fingers touch at her. Rubbing, circling. She soars.

_Join me._

She reaches a point, is poised at the cusp, and then climaxes into freefall. She’s never felt so connected. Small aftershocks flex her toes and hands as he shudders over her, coming shortly after, face pressed hot to hers. As his body pours out, she imagines her cells splitting apart and reforming. She sees the image of a ray of light beaming into a dark cave and envisions atoms and stardust that have existed since the beginning of time come together.

She recalls other things.

_Intrusion._

_Recognition._

_Violence._

_Truth._

He pulls up from her, face shadowy as her body cools.

_You’re nothing…_

She frowns in her sleep. The dream finishes and he drifts from her.

***

Across the galaxy, Kylo wakes to find his body fevered. His hands outstretched.

… _but not to me._


End file.
